


You Don't Feel It Till It Hurts, Sometimes

by Lady_Vibeke



Series: Cara Dune & Din Djarin: Tales of Two Space Idiots in Love [45]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Late Night Conversations, Mutual Pining, Post s02e08, Tears, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, emotions are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29437041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke
Summary: “I should leave,” he whispered, guilt lacing every word. It was unfair of him to always expect Cara to get him out of any trouble. She always seemed happy to help him, but that only made it worse. What had he done for her? Nothing.Cara's eyes locked into his with a flash of panic. “What?”“I should go,” he said, trying to look away, “somewhere else—anywhere else. I've already asked too much of you.”A sigh got stuck low in Cara's throat. “You don't get it, do you? Wherever you go, you can't take this with you.” She raised a hand to wipe it across her cheek. She showed him her palm and fingers, wet with her tears. “This is all me, it'smine. Iworry about you.Icare about you. I—”He waited for her to finish, but she stopped there, leaving him holding his breath for nothing.“What were you going to say?”“I don't know,” she mumbled dismissively.'Yes, you do,' Din thought fondly. He did, too.[ Din wakes up to Cara crying alone in the middle of the night. Two broken people try to pick up their pieces. ]
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cara Dune
Series: Cara Dune & Din Djarin: Tales of Two Space Idiots in Love [45]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709416
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	You Don't Feel It Till It Hurts, Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by a line from Love Like Ghosts by Lord Huron.

He woke up to a faint unfamiliar sound coming from somewhere in the house. The bed he was lying in was soft, warm, and comfortable, and its sheets smelled like Cara—a scent he wouldn't have been able to describe or associate to anything else. It was _Cara,_ like a signature, an unmistakable mark he could recognise as well as his own name. This whole bed smelled like Cara and she wasn't even here.

Din sat up in the dark feeling the empty mattress beside him like he couldn't wrap his head around it. He'd slept by Cara's side countless times, on the Crest and under the sky, so her offer to share her bed with him had been spontaneous and much appreciated. It was no big deal to them, but waking up without her for the first time didn't feel... right. Especially because her presence seemed to be the only comfort he could find.

Frowning, he got up, leaving his helmet on the floor where he'd put it before going to bed. He still wore it like before, but not around Cara. He padded to the other room, following the muffled sound he couldn't place... until he saw Cara on the couch with her head between her hands and a glass of liquor before her. She was crying.

Din's stomach sank. Not _this,_ he couldn't take it: Cara couldn't be broken and vulnerable, she was his rock, the one certainty he had left. If Cara was in pieces, too, who was going to walk him out of the darkness he'd fallen into?

He immediately felt ashamed of himself for this selfishness. He pushed his own brokenness aside and walked to her. For once, he could be strong for her and give something back.

“Cara.” He was afraid his whisper wouldn't be enough for her to hear him, so he approached further until her shoulders stopped shaking, acknowledging his presence. He sat down beside her. Cara wiped her nose with the back of her hand and turned away a little, her messy hair hiding her face from Din.

“ _Cara,”_ he said again, all his worry cramped into this single, muttered word. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Cara's thin, cracking voice was anything but a reassurance. “Go back to sleep, I'm fine.”

“You're crying. 

Cara sniffed with a chocked half laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He was so concerned he could muster a bit of boldness—just enough to brush the hair away from her face and tuck it behind her hear, revealing at tear-streaked cheek and a trembling chin. He saw her throat bob with a loud swallow. Seeing her like this hurt more than he could have imagined, so much he forgot his own grief.

“What is it?”

Cara still wouldn't look at him. “Can we just pretend this never happened?” she implored. “I'm not in the mood for pillow talk.”

Her harsh tone pierced Din in the chest like a shard of ice. She'd been nothing but kind to him, this past week they'd been back, leaving him space when he sought it and offering a shoulder to lean on when he needed it. Returning the favour seemed to be the least he could do but he wasn't going to pressure her if she didn't want him here. This didn't stop him from feeling rejected.

“Forgive me.”

“Din.” Cara put a hand on his knee as he made to stand up, urging him to sit back. He obliged. Her fingers squeezed with gratitude.

“I'm sorry,” she breathed, still with that brittle voice he couldn't bear to hear from her—like she didn't have a right, too, to suffer and be weak. “Please,” she sniffled, “don't worry about me. I'm gonna be okay. It's just... I don't know, stress or whatever.”

Stress. Meaning _him._ Din was the only source of stress she'd been exposed to, after their mission to rescue the kid. She had taken in a psychologically damaged Mandalorian with no reserves, giving him a place to stay—a _home,_ when he was, in fact, homeless—and all he hadn't even made an effort to make things easier for her, drenched as he was in his own self-commiseration.

His hand went to rest over hers over his knee. “Is there anything I can do?”

A wet laugh escaped Cara's tight lips. “I don't know,” she scoffed, “erase yourself from my timeline?”

“What?” Din blinked. He didn't know how to take what he'd just heard. His shock left a heavy silence hanging between them, interrupted only by Cara's uneven breathing.

“I don't know how to do this, Din,” she murmured, staring at their hands before taking hers away. She cast Din a mildly apologetic glance, “I'd forgotten what it was like to care about someone and—“ She paused to take a nervous breath. “I can't handle this— this— this _mess_ I have inside. I— I don't know what to do with this.”

“What is _this?”_ he asked in confusion.

He heard her grumble to herself— _“You gotta be kidding me,”_ —before she actually answered him, “This... this _thing_ I feel for you.” She made a funny grimace, as if what she was saying was extremely unpleasant to admit. “It was okay as long as everything was fine, you know? I could take it. But now you're here, and you're— you're miserable, and—” She faced away with a frustrated sigh. “I can't fix it and it _sucks._ It sucks,” she repeated, more feebly, a little less angrily. Din realised the issue wasn't _him;_ it was his melancholy. Cara was broken because _he_ was broken. It was touching and crushing at the same time.

“I don't know what to do with _feeling,”_ Cara said. Her hands were tight fists shaking on her knees. “Numbness was so much easier than this kriffing shit.”

Din was several lines behind. “You feel... for me?”

He didn't know why he was surprised: he and Cara had always cared about each other.

“You're not yourself,” she said. There was a teardrop stuck between her lashes. “You haven't been yourself since we got back and I— what am I supposed to do?” She looked at him as if expecting an answer he couldn't give her. He missed the kid, he was battling with his own identity... the one good thing he had left was Cara, and he was putting her through hell.

“You're worried about me,” he noted with a warm lilt that instantly cast a ray of light through his inner darkness.

Cara broke into a reluctant giggle. “You don't say?”

“You don't have to be.”

“Yeah, tell the sun it doesn't have to rise in the morning. Good luck.”

The hint of humour in her tone lifted a bit of the weight burdening Din's shoulders. As scarcely clothed as the both were, Din could feel her heat all over himself, warming him inside more than it did outside. He'd been looking for a reason to pull himself out of the dirt he'd fallen into and that very reason had always been right here in front of him: Cara believed in him, Cara cared about him so much she was suffering because of his existential crisis. He could make an effort for her. He owed her this, at the very least.

Din ran his knuckles down her face, wiping away the wet trails of her tears. Cara closed her eyes—in shame or relief, he couldn't tell. He hoped it was the latter. Once he'd heard someone say no woman could e beautiful when she cried; if that was true, he guessed Cara was the exception.

“I don't want you to feel bad because of me.”

“Then do something about this kriffing moping!” she snapped, swatting his hand away. “Get your shit together! You broke your creed to save a kid! Great! If that makes you a coward and a failure, your creed has a problem!”

She was panting, her nose and his almost touching. She was furious, ablaze with utter indignation, and knowing that all of this was out of love for him made Din smile so fondly Cara scowled in dismay. He took her face into his hands and dried her eyes with an impalpable swipe of his thumbs.

“I'll try,” he promised. “For you.”

Cara shook her head. “Not for me, asshole. _For you.”_ She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I want you to get better for _you._ I feel... helpless. There's no one I can punch to make you better and it's _—_ I hate this.”

“Punches can't fix everything,” he reasoned, although he supposed this was one of the few things that couldn't be reasoned with Cara.

“They should,” she protested, confirming his prediction. His smile widened and with it the sense of peace budding inside him. New, heavy tears fell from Cara's eyes.

“Please, stop crying,” he begged. She was trembling.

“I can't.”

“It kills me to see you like this.”

“Look away.”

“ _Cara.”_

“ _Don't,”_ she hissed. “Don't say my name with that stupid soft tone, you're only making it worse.”

Din finally let go of her. The loss of the contact with her bare skin made his heart throb with an ache he'd never felt before. Did she feel it, too? She probably didn't. He was the one depending on her, after all. Thinking back on their encounters, he always had been. Perhaps that was the problem: he was too used to relying on Cara to make it on his own, now. Without her, he felt crippled, like something was missing and he couldn't go far without it. That would have explained why he could never seem to stay away for too long.

“I should leave,” he whispered, guilt lacing every word. It was unfair of him to always expect Cara to get him out of any trouble. She always seemed happy to help him, but that only made it worse. What had he done for her? Nothing.

Cara's eyes locked into his with a flash of panic. “What?”

“I should go,” he said, trying to look away, “somewhere else—anywhere else. I've already asked too much of you.”

A sigh got stuck low in Cara's throat. “You don't get it, do you? Wherever you go, you can't take this with you.” She raised a hand to wipe it across her cheek. She showed him her palm and fingers, wet with her tears. “This is all me, it's _mine._ _I_ worry about you. _I_ care about you. _I—_ ”

He waited for her to finish, but she stopped there, leaving him holding his breath for nothing.

“What were you going to say?”

“I don't know,” she mumbled dismissively.

 _'Yes, you do,'_ Din thought fondly. He did, too, and understood why she couldn't say it just yet. There was a lot of healing to do for them both, but it could be easier if they did this together. Cara's brutal approach to Din's crisis might be exactly what he needed to face his demons once and for all. She was right: it was stupid of him to feel bad for doing the right thing. Of course it had taken Cara to make him realise this.

“Will you go back to bed with me?” he asked, taking her hand into his as he stood up.

“I don't need you to—” Cara tried to argue, but Din gave her an imploring look.

“I do.”

“Do you?”

“It seems,” he smiled, “that since we met I don't really know how to be without you.”

Cara smiled back. “I think I know that feeling.” Her look was wistful as she let him pull her up, her eyes trained into his as though she was trying to read his mind.

He started walking with her hand still in his, but Cara gently tugged him back.

“You know what I was going to say, don't you?”

Without thinking, Din leant forward to touch his forehead against hers—the only display of affection he could allow himself right now.

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about this lump of angst. I started this last week when hormones were making me feel like shit and I finished this today... when hormones are still making me feel like shit. Stupid PMS.
> 
> Sorry about absence recently, as I've said before my work schedule has changed and now I only have Sundays off, so my free time has considerably shrunk, and my mental sanity along with it. I'm still writing and I'll most definitely get back to my usual fluff/humour stuff, now. I don't know what to think of this story but hopefully it's not too angsty.
> 
> This was my Valentine's: writing updates for my beloved ships. It could have been worse, right?
> 
> Comments are much appreciated. This ship deserves endless love and we all know it. ❤


End file.
